JEREMY WOHL                     
 

Median

Sleek scent, excitement, I
hurtle down tight corridors of foliage and asphalt
(blue roof unseen)
in nimble craft, open to the temperate air,
music flared, fighting forces, joy in a curve.

Light teases, glowing ground effect in eye's corner,
visible shafts stabbing down before vulcanized footfalls,
level specular flutters briefly bursting upon the retina,
and in 150 degree hairpins,
God runs the gamut in a slideshow with heavy thumb.

Risk, speed, illusion, centripity:
forgive me, designer topiary,
my haste through your measured glory,
I'm lost in jazz.

 
 

JEREMY WOHL

This will be Jeremy’s first published poem. Jeremy Wohl shares San Francisco with New York, and vice-versa. He has been writing in stealth mode for some years, awaiting permission from the cats. On school days he is a propeller head, and delights in bits.